


Seasons Of Love

by Lady_Iwaizumi



Series: Bokuaka Oneshots! [6]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Bad Jokes, Boys Kissing, Car rides, Cheek Kisses, Coffee Shops, Depression, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Hate Speech, Homelessness, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Illnesses, It all turns out great tho, Lies, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mentions of Sex, OTP OTP, Oneshot, Pining, Poverty, Prostitution, RENT the musical, Self-Hatred, Sleepovers, Song fic, Trust Issues, Winter, akaashi helps bo out, but not because he's so cute, policeman!Akaashi, promise!, prostitute!Bokuto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-27 11:19:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13247133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Iwaizumi/pseuds/Lady_Iwaizumi
Summary: Officer Akaashi offers a lovable prostitute a ride home, only to find that the closest thing to a home his new crush has is layers of soiled newspapers, one nostalgic sweatshirt and cold, steel trash cans.Don’t fall in love with someone who might not make it through the winter.





	1. Fall

**Author's Note:**

> A prostitute oneshot for my beautiful Bokuaka collection! I decided to make Bokuto the prostitute this time around, since it's too obvious and ordinary to automatically make Akaashi one because he's so tragically beautiful; leave comments, kudos, bookmark for the end of time, and above all, enjoy!  
> (UPDATE: Separated into 3 chaps, just cause!)

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes_

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand moments so dear_

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes_

_Ho_ w _do you measure, measure a year?_

_In daylights, In sunsets, In midnights, in cups of coffee? In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife?_

_In five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes_

_How do you measure a year in a life?_

 

_~FALL~ _

 

Akaashi was just trying to end the year on a good note.

 

He and his partner Konoha were cruising around Tokyo aimlessly, trying to find some last minute crimes to prevent before they returned home for the week; mid-fall was officially upon them, and the sharp wind was there to prove it, slipping through their bulletproof vests and police jackets. Konoha had turned the heat up in the car, but now they were both sweating, and sweating made it difficult for Akaashi to focus on where they were driving.

“What street were we going to check next?”

“I don’t know, third?”

“We already checked that one, Konoha-san.”

“Whatever. We’ve only got a few minutes left—can you drop me off?”

Keiji wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained from doing so, and took a right on the next turn. The streets were pretty empty tonight, probably on account of the cold weather, but that didn’t mean there weren’t crimes being committed in the shadows of the alleyways. Akaashi had only been a policeman for a week before he learned that lesson. Konoha filled the car with mindless talk of sporting events and how Komi needed to style his hair differently, because the entire orange-fringe-afro thing was getting a little old; the younger cop was content to listen to his lazy ramblings, mostly because he was too tired to contribute to the flow of conversation.

 

The pair rolled up to Konoha’s apartment complex right as the clock hit 10:30 PM.

“See you Monday, Akaashi-kun.”

“Have a good night, Konoha.”

The other policeman hurried inside the building to escape the cold night; Akaashi watched, making sure Konoha got in safely, then pulled off the curb and began heading towards his apartment on the other side of Tokyo.

 _What a night_ , Akaashi thought tiredly, waiting for another car to turn. _Robbers, pimps, punk kids…I’m sure glad I get this weekend off._

As Keiji drove, he made it to the part of Tokyo where traffic was always busy, no matter what time of the day it was; he was fine with waiting, as long as people weren’t honking their horns obnoxiously on all sides of him. He admired the neon lighted signs of the bars, stores, little coffee expresso shops on each corner…sometimes, Akaashi really liked working the late shift. Sometimes, with all the beauty surrounding him, it made the work seem easier, somehow, like the brightness empowered him. Keiji really liked keeping the city safe, but sometimes, it got to be really tiring arresting people who were too stubborn to let themselves to be helped. The rookie hated letting people free. What’s the point of taking them in if they’re just going to be released in the morning anyway, back on the streets to cause more ruckus?

Akaashi shook his head as he drove through the green light, happy to get away from the bustle of traffic; there was only one more busy portion of Tokyo he would have to drive through in order to make it home, which seemed like one of the few remaining quiet neighborhoods in all of Japan.

 

 _I wonder why other people drive around so late at night_ , Akaashi thought as he entered a darker neighborhood. _I mean, I have work, but what are other people doing? Eating? Looking at lights? Running away? I wonder if…_

_What the hell?_

 

As Keiji stopped at a red light, his side-vision did a double-take at something it really didn’t want to see; a young man to his left was standing on the fucking street corner, _no_ jacket on, _no_ gloves on, _no_ hat on, no _any_ sort of protection against the shockingly freezing autumn night. At least he had jeans on instead of shorts, but my goodness—the poor kid must’ve been freezing his ass off! Akaashi’s mouth hovered open in surprise as he turned his head to stare at this stranger hanging-out by the streetlamp; he couldn’t have been older than the rookie policeman, maybe in his early twenties? His hair was outrageous, but quite unique and entertaining, and the bright light above illuminated the sharp gold color of his wide eyes, and revealed a plain, tattered navy blue t-shirt hanging on strangely toned pectorals and biceps. If Keiji hadn’t been so distracted by the fact that the young man was standing in -5 degree weather, he would have been curious as to how the wanderer was so fit.

 

 _Wait a second…haven’t I seen him before?_ Akaashi thought, remembering a late night at the station a few months before. _Wasn’t he in one of the jail cells? Yeah, that’s definitely him, but…what was he in for again?_

 

The walking signal turned green, but the guy didn’t move to walk; cars turned in front of him, blocking the man from Akaashi’s view for a moment. The cop leaned left to try and catch sight of the freezing kid, praying he wouldn’t lose sight of him, lest he be trying to commit suicide in front of a cab or something. Keiji leaned as far as the window allowed, finally able to see as glowing cars sped past a pair of golden shimmering eyes. Several cars flew by without so much as a glance at the stranger, which made Akaashi extremely nervous, like the time he and Konoha had to rescue a dog from the Tokyo expressway in June—the dog kept giving he and his partner heart attacks by coming within an inch of speeding cars and trucks, unable to find its way off the road.

Suddenly the string of cars stopped again, the light turning red—

 

That was when Akaashi saw the invisible ink glowing on the man’s right wrist:

 

売春婦

 

 _Whore_.

 

On the streets, instead of getting plainly obvious tattoos to symbolize their status, prostitutes would use invisible ink pens like at VIP clubs, and when cars drove by, they would flash the sign, hoping someone would stop. While this young man wasn’t holding his wrist up, the ink was in plain sight, for anyone driving-by to see—including Akaashi.

Guilt and dread plagued the police officer’s heart as he continued to stare at the prostitute, failing to notice the green light flashing in front of him; _shit_ , Keiji thought, wildly wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. _I’m off duty, so I can’t take him to the station…but he’s going to freeze to death out here if he doesn’t get picked-up. What do I do? I can’t ask for his services, because that would be tricking him, and I don’t want to abuse his trust—wait. What if he sees the cop car? Of course he’ll see it, I’m sitting in the middle of traffic! Will he bolt? Will he lie?_

Akaashi, knowing he only had a few seconds before the hooker caught sight of him, let out a quick breath, and slowly pulled-up his cop car to the curb on which the prostitute was standing, ignoring the fact that he was in a no-turn lane.

 

The young man froze (probably from the shock _and_ from the weather) in his spot, eyes locking onto the vehicle that was now parked directly in front of him; now up-close, Akaashi could make-out the poor quality of the hooker’s clothing, even the ripped sneakers on his large feet. He was taller than Keiji, thick with muscle most gym members couldn’t even gain, and incredibly athletic looking; if he were to run, the rookie guessed he wouldn’t be able to catch him, at least not on foot.

Thankfully, the man didn’t run.

 

In fact, he seemed willing to stay right where he was. Keiji wasn't sure if that was because he was tough, or because he was hopeless.

 

Akaashi rolled his window down to get a better look; the cool air came rushing into the heated car, sending a shiver down his spine. He could only imagine how cold the prostitute was, wearing nothing but a t-shirt that hardly went past his biceps…Keiji was sure he could even _see_ the goosebumps on the man’s toned arms. His guilt increased, and finally, he peered up at the face of the street lurker.

Handsome. Excitable. Tired. Those were the first adjectives Officer Akaashi thought of. The hooker’s posture was stiff from the autumn chill, but the overall attitude didn’t scream danger to Keiji; either the young punk was aware that Keiji wasn’t on-duty, or he was really looking forward to sitting inside a heated car on his way to the police station. He stood there blankly, looking back at Akaashi with those challenging, energetic eyes, while the other memorized the face before him, trying to understand how someone so poor, so desperate, so lost in life could possibly be so attractive.

Many times arrived when Keiji had to admit that the victims and criminals he met were pleasing to the eye; would he ever seriously consider taking a move on them, for only a second? Not a chance. But this was different. He was off-duty. He was worried about this stranger, this _whore_ , no doubt, and…he admitted that this individual was his type. Not the hooker part, but all the other stuff.

 

“Do you need a ride?” Akaashi asked kindly, unable to take his eyes off the stranger’s.

The young man blinked a few times, mouth hovering open, as if he was shocked that he wasn’t being arrested already; for a long moment, he didn’t say a word. Then, a big grin appeared on his lips, and a few fumbled words came out in a boisterous, but anxious tone.

“I—I’m good! Thanks for asking, though!”

“…Are you sure?” Keiji pressed. “It’s pretty cold out here, and you look like you’ve been waiting for a while…it’s no trouble, really.”

Akaashi noticed how the prostitute had slowly lifted a hand to cover the invisible ink on his wrist; the act seemed kind of routine, but mostly hopeless, like he knew Keiji had already spotted the mark. He forced another smile and shook his head.

“I’ll be okay, thanks. I only live right down the street, I’m just heading home after work!”

Keiji knew that was a lie as soon as the second syllable came out. He allowed the young man to continue, however, not wanting to scare him off by calling out the fib; unsure what to do next, he gave one last desperate attempt to get the shivering, handsome dude into his car (in a totally non-perverted way).

“I’m off-duty, so nothing you say can be used against you.” Akaashi tried to joke.

 

The prostitute smiled, and Keiji’s heart stuttered.

 

The young man’s lips were raw from some kind of cold or virus, presumably (and from other activities Akaashi would rather not think about), but still managed to stretch wider than ever across his face as a surprised “Ha!” flew from the back of his throat. The quiet noise seemed to burst through Keiji’s bubble of silence, making a breath fall from his agape mouth as he remained still in his seat, unable to move now that he had heard the hooker’s laugh, even in the bitter coldness of fall.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay.” He assured the policeman, disappointing him. “It’s not as cold as it was yesterday!”

“Well…I guess.” Keiji couldn’t find an appropriate response to that brightness. “Oh—I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself—I’m Officer Akaashi Keiji, from the Tokyo Police Department 005.”

Akaashi held his warm hand out to shake the man’s cold, rough one firmly; the hooker seemed to notice the heat of the other’s skin, because he held on for a second too long.

“Nice to meet you, Officer.” The unnamed man smiled a little shyly, putting his hand down. “I think I’ve seen you at the station a few times before.”

“Yeah, probably…and…may I have your name?”

 

The prostitute visibly hesitated, but finally gave a _tiny_ , very valuable piece of information out. He had nothing to lose.

 

“Bokuto,” He said. “Bokuto Kōtarō.”

 

 _Bokuto_ , Akaashi repeated silently, nodding his head. _It suits him. But…I can’t just let him walk around in the cold like this…_

“Nice to meet you, Bokuto-san.” Keiji replied politely. He noticed that the young man’s eyes widened at the honorific. “If you won’t let me give you a ride home, will you at least let me drive beside you on your way, so that I know you got home safely?”

“Umm……”

The hooker looked left, then right, then back at Keiji.

“Sure! That’d be fine!”

Akaashi nodded in thanks and put his car into drive, carefully watching the silhouette beside him on the sidewalk as it slowly turned, making its way down the street. Of course, Officer Keiji had a sinking suspicion that Bokuto was lying about having a place to live, but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, and hoped that even if he was living in a drug house, it at least had a furnace. The prostitute walked stiffly, still hiding the glowing ink on his wrist as the police car drove on beside him, the policeman watching his every move, only glancing away to make sure he wasn’t going to hit anything in front of him; Bokuto wasn’t sure what the hell he was going to do, because he had lied again—

 

Lying had never gotten him anywhere good.

 

The rookie cop continued to drive at a steady 2 miles per hour, keeping his window rolled down even though the air coming in was tainting the heat inside; he just wished Bokuto would hop in and let him take the hooker to a homeless shelter or something. It physically pained him to watch Kōtarō shiver whenever a gust of wind came rushing over his body; no matter how strong and toned the prostitute was, he wasn’t strong enough to beat the weather.

_…What is he going to do during the winter? He has to go to a shelter, at the very least; I won't let him die out here._

_But...is that what he wants, maybe?_

Akaashi halted the car when Bokuto stopped in between two apartment buildings; he finally uncovered the ink on his wrist as he turned back to the policeman, forcing a smile despite how fucked he was in this situation.

“This one’s me!” Kōtarō pointed. He made sure not to point to a specific one.

“Okay.”

Bokuto was hoping the cute cop would turn and drive away, but he was much nicer than any other nice person the prostitute had ever met, and stayed true to his word, parking the car again and waiting for the freezing young man to hurry into his apartment building. Kōtarō wondered if the other man knew that he hadn’t lived in an apartment for a little over two-years now.

 

Keiji watched patiently.

 

“Well…have a good night, Officer Akaashee!” The prostitute waved.

_Who’s Akaashee?_

“You too, Bokuto-san. Stay warm.”

Kōtarō’s expression lit-up momentarily, then returned to its normal self as he turned around, jogging into the alleyway between the apartment complexes. Akaashi opened his mouth to call out, but Bokuto had already disappeared into the shadows, behind the dumpsters and trash bins filling the alley; his footsteps echoed through the boisterous city noises, fading away until Keiji had no more excuses to remain where he was. The rookie was tempted to stake out the spot and be there to pick him up when Bokuto emerged from his hiding place, but the station was alerted whenever the police car was returned, so he didn’t have hours to spare for the homeless prostitute with golden eyes.

Akaashi sighed to himself, and put the car in drive.

 _I hope it warms-up a little_ , he pleaded, entering the quiet neighborhood of Fukurodani. _Or I hope he manages to find some thicker clothing before winter hits…he’ll be dead before then if he doesn’t find a place to stay…why didn’t he just let me take him to a homeless shelter? But then again, why would he trust some random off-duty cop? I don’t seem THAT creepy, do I?_

 

Officer Keiji let his mind wander for the rest of the night, and when his head hit the pillow near 11:30 PM, he couldn’t help but try and send all of his warmth to Bokuto.


	2. Winter

_Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes._

_How do you measure a life of a woman or a man?_

_In truths that she learned, or in times that he cried?_

_In bridges he burned, or the way that she died?_

 

_It's time now to sing out, though the story never ends._

_Let's celebrate remember a year in a life of friends_

_~WINTER, Four weeks later~ _

 

In the weeks following, Officer Keiji found what little information he could on the prostitute named Bokuto Kōtarō. There were only a handful of records on the twenty-four-year-old, including a birth certificate, a high school diploma, and an arrest sheet with only two incidents reported, both for prostitution within the past year. He asked Konoha if he ever booked Bokuto in the jail, which he had, and found out that Konoha had caught him red-handed with the landlord of some apartment complex the station was searching in hopes of finding a missing criminal; Akinori explained that he felt pretty bad about arresting the kid, because Bokuto never received his money in return for the services offered, and he also didn’t manage to secure one of the spendy apartments for a month, because the bastard refused once they were caught in his office. Apparently, Kōtarō told him he wasn’t a prostitute, just that he was sleeping with the landlord in return for a place to live; this would have checked out, had another officer not found $300 in cash stuffed inside Bokuto’s boot, fresh from the landlord’s bank account. There was one hospital record from two-years ago (back before Bokuto learned how to manage illnesses while being a hobo) that listed the prostitute as having _pneumonia_.

Keiji’s anxiety only grew upon investigating his new friend.

Could he really call him a friend, though? Akaashi didn’t realize he had referred to Bokuto as such until he found himself driving past that familiar corner each night when coming back from work, in hopes of finding the young man and helping him get a place to live, if only temporary. He didn't want to look in the obituaries one day and see Bokuto's name. He checked homeless shelters for the young man whenever he and Konoha had business there. He learned that Bokuto had a bank account (a rarity for homeless people) at the bank downtown, and that it had last been used a few days ago; he didn’t know the details, of course, but it was a little comforting to know that the hooker was trying to figure things out by saving his money.

 The young cop was very stressed over this incident.

 

When it began to snow, Akaashi feared the worst.

 

He and Konoha had been extremely busy lately, what with the car accidents, the stolen Christmas lights, etc. etc., but at the end of the day, he just couldn’t shake the thought of Bokuto, his crazy, spiked-up hairdo, his high arched eyebrows, that huge challenging grin on his lips…he prayed for the poor soul each night, hoping they would be answered in a neighborhood a few blocks away, where Bokuto was sleeping underneath trash bags and newspapers to keep warm.

Each day Akaashi went without seeing the prostitute, the worse he felt. 

One late night, after Konoha and he had spent the afternoon consoling the parents of a dead teenager, Akaashi was dejectedly heading home around midnight, having dropped Akinori off at his place already. The year was close to ending, and the first anniversary of Keiji’s officer status was coming quickly; he only hoped that he would live to see many more anniversaries.

The damned red light right before his neighborhood was red, naturally, and Officer Keiji released a deep sigh as he stopped and watched the window wipers battle the lightly falling snow on the windshield. _Can’t anything go right today?_ He wondered, rubbing his chilled hands together. _I think I have some leftover beef stew at home…but I’m too tired to eat anything. Maybe I’ll just fall into bed and go into a coma._

 

The snow melted as soon as it fluttered onto the window, and Keiji tiredly glanced left and right to see if anyone was coming his way; instead of cars, he saw something that made his heart pound, his back straighten-up immediately upon realizing what the image was—

 

None other than Bokuto Kōtarō was standing on that same sidewalk corner, this time wearing a hoodie and a pair of snowy mittens covering his hands.

 

Akaashi took a moment to recover from the shock, then turned his blinker on in the no-turn lane (again), and pulled-up to the curb; Bokuto was just about to step onto the street, but retracted his foot when he saw the cop car. Officer Keiji hurriedly rolled the window down, ignoring the snow completely as he gazed upwards at the hooker, who in return, peered down at him curiously.

The snow seemed to fall on Bokuto like little stars, only landing every few seconds or so, although he was covered in speckles of white; his white and gold sweatpants had a few holes in them, but his shoes looked brand new, though not very equipped for winter weather. His black sweatshirt had the name of a volleyball team on it, and the thick mittens had tiny blue owls sewn into the pattern—Akaashi thought they were cute, and felt a surge of pride go through his chest when he saw how warm they were. Had Kōtarō really taken his advice about staying warm?

_Well duh, Keiji, he is HOMELESS IN TOKYO. Of course he's going to try and stay warm!_

 

It took a moment for Bokuto to relax, but when he did, that same blinding smirk was back, after four weeks of absence.

 Akaashi wasn't aware that the hooker had been hoping and praying that they would run into each other again.

“Hey hey, Officer Keiji! What are you doing out here so late?”

“Oh…I’m just heading home after work.” The rookie answered. He was trying to sound casual, like he hadn’t been wanting to see the prostitute for the past season. “Please allow me to give you a ride tonight, Bokuto-san—it’s snowing, I can’t possibly let you walk home all by yourself.”

Bokuto opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself; Akaashi watched his expression very closely, like they had been taught in police training. He seemed caught in-between a decision. He glanced over at the other cars driving by, down at his mittens, then back over at Keiji again—the hooker had really wanted to make some cash tonight, since it was winter and he almost had enough to pay for an apartment in a safe neighborhood all by himself for at least a month…but…he thought that maybe if he distracted Akaashi long enough for his body heat to return to normal while inside the car, he wouldn’t feel so cold underneath the garbage tonight.

 _Akaashi...I thought...I thought he forgot about me,_ Bokuto wondered in surprise _. I can't believe he's actually here! But...I really need some cash. Damn. His eyes are too pretty. How can I say no to those eyes?_

_But....he's a cop. Is he...is he going to trick me?_

_No. Officer Keiji wouldn't do that. Would he?_

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” Akaashi asked in surprise, expression lighting-up for a short moment.

“Yeah, if it’s not too much to ask…”

“No no, not at all—hop right in.”

Bokuto scooted on over to the passenger side, brushed the snow off his clothing, kicked the ice off his sneakers, and slid inside next to Keiji, who turned the heat on full-blast.

Now that they were sitting next to each other, the rookie wasn’t sure what to say. Both parties noted that the other was even cuter up close.

Thankfully, the prostitute had a _lot_ of things to say, and he started up a conversation right away as he clicked his seatbelt on, per Akaashi’s request.

“Buckle-up, please.”

“Right!” Bokuto nodded. He peered around the cop car for a second, glancing back at the fabric straps separating the officers from the criminals. “It’s nice sitting up here instead of back there,” He commented, making Akaashi want to crack a grin. “You can see everything without having three black lines down your vision.”

“Mm.”

“Is it required to keep this car really clean?”

“We have a few regulations, yes. Whether or not people follow those regulations is up to them.”

“Uh oh…” Kōtarō said, leaning down to grab something. He returned with an empty McDonalds cup that was stuck under his seat. “Looks like Officer Keiji doesn’t pass the test!”

“That was Konoha, my partner.” Akaashi sighed, taking the cup and throwing it in the small trash between seats. “He doesn’t like driving, and yet he dirties up his own police car like it belonged to me.”

Bokuto smiled in amusement, entertained with the thingy-ma-jigs on the dashboard for a moment. Officer Keiji snuck closer peeks at his new friend, taking  note of his runny nose, his cold, rosy cheeks, and the redness and fatigue of his wide, curious eyes, and became concerned as to whether or not he should be heading towards a doctor’s office instead of...wherever they were headed; _is he ill? Does he have pneumonia? Is it something WORSE than pneumonia? Is it HIV? Oh no...what if I'm too late? Is Bokuto-san dying from HIV?!_

“...You don’t have to call me Officer, by the way.” Keiji said quietly. “Just Akaashi.”

“Are…are you sure? Officer is a pretty cool honorific, it’d be a shame not to use it!”

“It’s fine—I’m not as cool as the title is, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

 

Bokuto went to protest, but didn’t think it was his place to argue; he really wanted to call someone on the awesome police scanner, but he figured that wasn’t allowed, and amused himself with the idea of Akaashi calmly responding to an emergency in that laid-back, casual voice of his. How could one person be so great? Officer Keiji was polite, funny, super bad-ass, and, let’s not forget, unfairly attractive.

How had Kōtarō gotten so lucky?

The prostitute wanted to start another conversation, but found himself too enraptured by the heat blasting onto his body that he forgot all about talking—he didnt remember the last time he felt warm.

Surprisingly, Akaashi calmed himself down enough to start-up another topic.

“Nice mittens,” Keiji said, alerting the other. “Are they warm?”

“Super warm! I think they’re made from sheep wool or something.”

“Ah, yes…sheep wool is…good.”

“Yeah! I wish these sweatpants were made from that, too, because they’re kind of thin for winter.” Bokuto continued. Akaashi wondered if he had any invisible ink on tonight. “I like the owls, too—aren’t they cute?!”

“Very cute.”

 

The prostitute laughed, and the attitude in the car seemed to become ten-times lighter.

 

Officer Keiji was driving mindlessly, taking turns here and there, going to the busiest portion of town just so he could entertain and warm Kōtarō for as long as possible; the hooker was content to talk about his clothing, what brand of sneakers he liked, why he didn’t like those weird shoe stores in the mall because they smelled funny, random subjects like that, and Akaashi was content to listen, becoming lost in Bokuto’s stories, just like how Kōtarō kept getting lost in the pretty blueish-green glow in Keiji’s eyes.

“Is that sweatshirt from high school?” The cop asked casually, glancing down at the prostitute’s only source of protection from the elements.

“Oh!” Bokuto said in surprise, holding out the print on his shirt. “Yeah, I…I was on the volleyball team. It’s a little tight, though, because I got this my first year, when we went to Nationals.”

“Nationals? Really?”

“Yeah! It was awesome, Akaaashee, you should’ve been there!”

 

Keiji smiled lightly and let out a small laugh. Bokuto became serious, and made it his goal to get the young officer to _really_ laugh.

 

“Hey Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-three. How old are you?”

“Twenty-four. How long have you been a police officer?”

“Almost a year, now.”

“Wow! That’s so cool! Do you like it so far? Do you like the uniforms you have to wear? You haven’t gotten shot, have you? Because I think you’re a little too early-in for the job to get so bloody.”

Akaashi shook his head, but kept that small, barely-there smile on his lips.

“I do like it so far…and the uniforms are nice. I haven’t been shot yet, but I have been shot at.”

Horror overcame Kōtarō’s expression as he turned to Keiji in shock.

“You _have_?”

“Yeah. A few months ago.”

Bokuto sat back against his seat and remained quiet for a minute. Akaashi didn’t know what he was thinking about, and was too caught-up in his own thoughts to guess his guest’s.

 _Man…lots of people have it worse than me_ , the prostitute thought sadly, looking out the window with a shiver. _I mean, I always knew that, but I didn’t know…I didn’t know normal people like policemen probably go through more danger than I do. I mean, they have to fight crime! Akaashi’s too pretty to fist fight someone!_

“Hey, Akaashi.”

“Hm?”

“Why do police officers make good volleyball players?”

Akaashi raised an eyebrow.

“Because they know how to serve, _and_ how to attack.”

 

The joke was so not even a joke that Keiji let out a bark of laughter, leaning forward in his seat to control himself; Bokuto couldn’t help but laugh himself, though he was too busy staring in wonder at Akaashi to really get into it. The neon lights were shining into their car, accented by the snowflakes still falling steadily on the ground around them as they continued to drive around Tokyo aimlessly—Keiji spared a quick glance over at his passenger, noting that it was nearing eleven at night now; if he was going to get up for work tomorrow, he needed to get home and go to sleep.

But…what about Bokuto?

“Where am I dropping you off tonight, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi tried to ask calmly.

“Oh…um…the—the same place as last time. Those two apartment complexes.”

The cop nodded shortly, pretending the lie was true once again. He took the next right and made his way back around to the busy part of town where the hooker supposedly lived; Bokuto himself was stiffer now, realizing that the warmth of the vehicle was suddenly coming to an end. He didn’t want to leave. He still needed to make some money tonight, which means he would have to hit the clubs instead of the streets, which meant that…

 

“Here we are.”

 

Kōtarō grumbled internally to himself as Keiji parked in the same spot as last time, right in front of the apartment buildings; why did he have to lie so much? He could just tell the officer that he was homeless—that wasn’t a crime, was it? The prostitution thing, yeah, that was definitely a crime, but he wouldn’t mention that part. There wasn’t enough time to ask questions, anyway. It was practically freezing outside. Then again, he didn't want Akaashi to think less of him if he said he was homeless;

The poor kid couldn't remember the last time he had a crush on someone.

 

Bokuto gave Akaashi a smile, and bid his farewell.

“Thanks for the ride, Officer Keiji—I appreciate it.” The hooker said sincerely, going to open the door. “Have a good nigh—"

“Bokuto-san.”

The white-haired young man glanced back at Akaashi, who finally turned to lock eyes with him.

“Do you really have a place to stay tonight?”

 

_Shit. I knew he knew…_

 

“Yeah,” Bokuto lied with reassurance. “I really do.”

Keiji slumped in defeat. He gave a short nod, dismissing the other, who turned to step outside again. Before he could, he mumbled something under his breath that Akaashi wasn’t meant to hear.

“Though no _normal_ person would consider it real…”

“Why don’t you stay at a shelter?” Officer Keiji all-but shouted, making Bokuto turn back again. “I can drive you, if you want.”

Kōtarō almost laughed, but bit it back, because he didn’t want to laugh in someone’s face when they were just trying to be nice. He had tried going to shelters, at first…but the only thing they did was make him feel even worse about himself, for more reasons than one. The bulky twenty-four-year-old gave Akaashi a small, bitter smile.

“I don’t belong at a place like that,” He reasoned quietly. His voice had never sounded so lonely. “Those people…those people have special needs. They need the space more than I do, and…most of them…most of them have _children_. Cute little children who are sick, or have never had a warm place to sleep ever since they were born.”

“You can get sick, too, Bokuto-san.” The rookie argued gently. “You have a cold right now. You’ve probably had it for a long time now…haven’t you?”

 

The prostitute didn’t answer.

They sat in tense silence for a long moment.

 

“…They don’t need another low-life like me taking-up space, Akaashi.” Bokuto said. “That’s not fair to all the other homeless people who actually have _real_ jobs—the ones who try way harder than me to get what they deserve.”

 

 _That’s not true_ , Keiji thought. He wanted to scream that at Bokuto. _That’s not true. You deserve a home just as much as they do._

His mouth didn’t open, however, and so, Kōtarō opened the police car door and put one foot outside, his sneaker crunching the snow underneath.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed onto his sweatshirt and pulled gently, though he felt like he was being yanked back into the cop car by some invisible force.

“Would you like to stay at my place for the night, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asked quickly, his face only inches away from the hooker’s. Those huge golden eyes were wide with fear, as if he thought the policeman was angry with him. “I have a comfortable futon in the living room—it would be no trouble. I don’t have a roommate…it’s…it’s just in the next neighborhood. Would you like that?”

Bokuto couldn’t respond. He hardly knew what Akaashi had said after the initial question. He wanted to say a thousand things, he wanted to ask a million questions about why, why Keiji would want to give him shelter, but…he couldn’t do anything. His body was frozen, as was his mind. He stared mindlessly at the cop as the dark-haired cutie looked back at him evenly, waiting for an answer of some sort.

 

When it didn’t look like he was going to receive one, Keiji slowly pulled Bokuto further into the car, reached across his body, and shut the door. The rookie allowed the prostitute one last second to back-out, then put the car in drive.

 

This ride was silent, aside from the occasional static on the police scanner; Kōtarō wasn’t sure what decision he had just made, but he really hoped it was the right one. He hoped Akaashi wasn’t tricking him, hoped that he wouldn’t have to end-up sleeping with the young rookie to keep him quiet, to not turn him into the authorities—come to think of it, Bokuto realized he didn’t even _make_ a decision. Keiji made it for him.

 _Well…look at where all my other decisions got me_ , Bokuto frowned, sitting stiffly in his seat as Akaashi drove. _Maybe it’s better that Keiji made it for me this time around. Even if we do end up sleeping together, at least he's attractive._

_Though...I don't want to sleep with someone just because they're good looking...but what the fuck do I know? I'm a prostitute, for God's sake!_

When the pair came up on the parking lot leading to Akaashi’s apartment, Kōtarō had to let his mouth drop open. _This_ was where the cop _lived_? How much fucking money did he make a month?! Enough to own a white apartment, apparently…all the ones on Bokuto’s end of town were brown, so that’s how he knew that this one had to be costly. Too curious for his own good, he let awe overcome him instead of shame and envy as Keiji parked the police car in his normal spot, glancing over at his guest cautiously.

“So…this is it.” He said slowly. “Let’s hurry inside, before it really starts to snow.”

 

Akaashi threw his scarf on before stepping outside and shutting the door, speed walking up towards the entrance to the complex; he quickly realized that his friend was not next to him, and turned around to see if he had bolted.

 

Kōtarō hadn’t bolted, exactly, but…he was still sitting in the car, seemingly contemplating the current situation. Keiji knew what a shock it must be to him, being offered a place to sleep for the night, being shown such kindness so suddenly…

He just hoped he would be able to convince Bokuto to stay the entire night. And _not_ because he was good looking. (Okay, he admitted it was a tiny bit because the prostitute was handsome. But mostly, in all honesty, he didn’t want such a bright young man freezing to death out in the cold, waiting to have sex with some disgusting pervert so he would have some money for food the next day.)

Keiji backtracked and waved at his guest through the car window; the other man finally looked up, staring with those watery red eyes that made the rookie feel even worse.

 

“Are you coming, Bokuto-san?”

 

Bokuto blinked once, making a tentative decision, then stepped out of the car.

_Guess I’m not having sex tonight…_

_Great!_


	3. Seasons

Akaashi’s home was just as Bokuto pictured it (not that he was imaging scenarios of them together…); clean overall, but with a few miscellaneous objects lying here and there. The layout was neat, fashionable, and themed with a deep navy blue color that the hooker was immediately fond of, because it matched one of his only t-shirts. Keiji told him to make himself at home, and offered Bokuto the shower first, which he politely shrugged off to Akaashi. It wouldn’t feel right to take everything the cop offered, just because he was being polite…

When was the last time Kōtarō had a shower?

_Oh no…what if I smell? Of course I smell! THAT’S why he wanted me to go first!_

Amidst his inner-turmoil, Bokuto took a seat on the futon in the small living room area, where a large window sat to his right, opening up a large view of the Tokyo lights. It was nice, he thought, seeing the world from above instead of below; everything seemed okay when you looked at the situation from this angle. No wonder Akaashi was so successful and cool…

“I shouldn’t be long,” Officer Keiji said, placing his jacket on the hook beside the door as Bokuto awkwardly sat straight up in the futon. “All I have is leftovers, so I’ll heat those up while you’re showering. Sound okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, really great!”

The still-shivering young man picked at his fingers while still maintaining awkward eye-contact; he had never felt so out of place and yet, so at home before. He was even more confused than before.

“Umm…take your time, though. Showering, I mean; don’t hurry on my account. I’m sure you had a long day, so just take however long you want, okay, Akaashi?”

 

Keiji gave him a gentle smile and nodded once.

 

“Okay. Please help yourself to anything—the freezer, the fridge—I know you have a cough, and there’s bottles of water right in the door—oh, and there’s a blanket behind you, folded on the futon…just make yourself at home, Bokuto-san.”

“You got it! Thanks, Officer!”

 

Akaashi shook his head and exited the room, leaving the prostitute alone to give both of them some relief.

 

Keiji let out a huge sigh when he entered the shower, letting the warm water pour down on his naked, fatigued body; he suddenly remembered that he couldn’t hog the water tonight, and turned it down to neutral, so that Bokuto would have a majority of the hotter water for his shower. He really hoped Kōtarō would sleep okay on the futon…he didn’t want him to sleep on the floor instead, figuring the poor young man already slept on the ground every single night. At least his apartment was heated, carpeted…Bokuto probably wouldn’t steal anything. There wasn’t much to steal, anyway, as Akaashi’s credit cards were in the pants now lying on the bathroom floor, he hardly had any cash lying around, and he didn’t own a single decoration worth anything over 300 yen.

Bokuto wasn’t a criminal, anyway. His smile was too childish.

After about ten-minutes of worrying about whether or not his guest liked beef stew, Keiji turned the water off and dried himself quickly; he had to make a run for it across the hall to get his pajamas, but if he did see anything, Bokuto didn’t comment from the living room. _Hopefully nothing awkward happens_ , Akaashi stressed some more, trying to find pajama pants that weren’t so…nerdy. _I mean, nakedness is nakedness, but…oh crap. I bet he doesn’t have anything else to put on. That’s probably why he didn’t want to go first. I bet he’s making up an excuse right now…I’m sure I have some things that would fit him. That shouldn’t be a problem._

Officer Keiji thought he heard something, but brushed it off as he attempted to make his hair look presentable.

 _Striped pajama pants aren’t embarrassing, right?_ _Well, whatever…what would Bokuto like?_ Akaashi thought as he pulled a pair of large grey sweatpants from the back of his drawer. _Some warm socks, a t-shirt…this should do. I’ve still got to heat-up that leftover stew._

_Why did I just rhyme?_

 

Akaashi shook his head and collected the clothing for Bokuto, dropping them off in the bathroom before he—

_What was that?_

Seconds before Keiji placed the pajamas on the counter, he heard a soft whimpering noise coming from the living room; he froze in his tracks, inching the clothing down so that he could focus all his attention on whatever was happening a few feet down the hall.

There was another whimper, more clearly this time, and Akaashi used his police skills to creep around the corner without being heard, daring to peek his head around the wall—the odd part was that Bokuto was still sitting on the futon, right where he left him, but…

 

But he was _crying_.

 

Bokuto was practically sobbing on the futon, bent over his knees, arms wrapped around his body as if holding himself together, piece by piece; he kept mumbling and whispering to himself painfully, body tensed so much it looked like one big cramp. Akaashi was so heartbroken all he could do was stand there and listen as tears sprung to his eyes, and Kōtarō kept on crying to himself, trying to keep quiet.

“It’s _too much_ ,” The prostitute whined, falling into another bout of cries. “I-I…I can’t…I……I d-don’t deserve it...”

The golden-eyed man buried his face in his knees, trying to muffle the jumble of noises escaping his lips.

“D-amnit…… _pathetic_ …w-worthless _whore_ …”

Akaashi didn’t know what to do. Was there anything he _could_ do? Kōtarō was practically inside himself by now, too drowned in his own sorrows and guilt to hear anything around him…no. Keiji was just going to have to let him cry it all out. That was all he could do, right? Comforting him would probably make the poor kid even _more_ miserable, but on the other hand, the police officer didn’t want to leave him all alone in his suffering…

 "F-uck......" Bokuto hiccuped and heaved for a moment. "Why...why am I _like_ this?"

Keiji tore his eyes away from the sorrowful scene in front of him, and returned to his room, shutting the door halfway.

 

“Bokuto-san,” He called loudly, hoping the other couldn’t hear the tremble in his tone. “I’m done with the shower—you can go in now while I make some dinner, okay?”

_Take your time, take your time…_

After about thirty-seconds of silence, Bokuto answered with one of the best cover-up voices Akaashi had ever heard.

“Okay—thanks!”

 

Akaashi let out a breath to calm himself down; Kōtarō’s light footsteps were heard hurrying down the hallway and into the bathroom, where the door shut just as quickly, cutting the prostitute off from the rest of the world. Only then did Keiji slowly make his way towards the kitchen to cook.

There were a million things going through his mind, none that he could efficiently answer or even ask; he knew Bokuto would be overwhelmed, but…calling himself names? A whore? Maybe Keiji had underestimated his damaged emotional state. This had to be degrading, accepting such charity from someone younger, more successful than Bokuto...

Knowing he might have made things worse worsened Akaashi's stress.

 _I must just be an insensitive asshole_ , Akaashi thought angrily at himself, stirring the beef stew. He put the leftovers back in the pot to make sure it tasted un-leftovery. _What was I thinking, inviting a homeless prostitute into my expensive apartment? I bet I look like a real jerk._

The cop continued to sigh and stress about the situation until he heard Bokuto emerge from the bathroom; he cleared his throat, pretending to be focused on pouring the stew as the clean hooker came back into the room, wearing Akaashi’s pajamas. Keiji turned, holding both bowls of soup in his hands, and almost snorted when he saw how tight the t-shirt was on Bokuto, whose abs were nearly visible through the thin fabric, like in those terrible romance movies or something. Once Akaashi turned his attention off the clothing, he just about dropped both bowls.

 

Kōtarō’s hair was _wet_. And _flat_. And downright _adorable_. Had the tips always been that white? Were they natural, or had he dyed the strands long ago? Keiji wasn’t sure. Bokuto looked so comfortable and soft with his casual clothes on, the thick (and slightly fuzzy) grey socks on his feet, the revived, calming glow in his cocky eyes, still only a little bit puffy with tears…Akaashi was tempted to hug him, just because the prostitute looked so lovable and innocent.

He didn’t say that out-loud, though, for fear that the other might cry again.

“What?” Bokuto asked curiously, cocking his head to the side.

“Uh—uh………I……I…”

“Is that…” Kōtarō licked his lips. “Beef stew?”

There was a shine in the hooker’s eyes that Akaashi had never seen before. He looked down at the steaming bowls of stew and hurriedly nodded, setting the fuller one down in front of Bokuto at the island table, where a fork and glass filled with chocolate milk were waiting. The homeless man waited for Keiji to sit down first, though it was clear he was trying to contain the excitement roaring through his veins as he hungrily stared at the hearty beef stew.

“Itadakimasu!” Bokuto said politely, bowing his head before digging into the soup.

“It’s leftover, but it should taste okay…”

“Okay?! This is _amazing_!” Kōtarō exclaimed. “Akaashi, why didn’t you tell me you could cook?”

“It never came up, I suppose.”

 

The young police officer spent a moment watching Bokuto happily consume his meal before returning to his own with a tiny smile on his lips.

 

After his guest consumed as much beef as he desired (he desired a _lot_ ), Akaashi threw the dishes into the sink and went to go collect the thickest blankets and nicest pillow from his room for Bokuto to use on the futon. Thankfully, when he returned, the latter wasn’t crying this time around; he looked up at Keiji with starstruck eyes when he was handed a quilt and a comforter, along with Akaashi’s favorite pillow, a softer blanket to lay underneath the other covers, and a smaller pillow, just in case he didn’t like the other one. Bokuto needed a short moment to remember what all of these articles were for, as he hadn't seen them in so long.

“Do you need anything else?” Officer Keiji asked, a bit of his anxiousness showing. “Water and everything else is in the kitchen, bathroom’s down the hall…”

Kōtarō watched as Akaashi went to turn the lamp on, only to retract his hand, only to reach out once more.

“Do you want the lamp on?”

“No thanks...” Bokuto slowly replied.

“Okay—if you need anything else, just let me know. It’s already midnight, so it’s not like I’ll be getting much sleep anyway.”

“Right.”

The owlish kid fiddled with his fingers.

“Hey, um…Akaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

_Again with the -san…_

“Thank you.” The prostitute said quietly, but incredibly sincerely, peering up at Keiji from his place on the futon. “I…I don’t really know how I’m going to repay you for…all of this, but I’m really grateful, Akaashee.”

Keiji’s heart began to race again when Bokuto smiled at him.

“Well—just thanks for being so nice to me.”

 

The black-haired young man needed a second to recover from that, and stiffly nodded, still shook from when he caught the hooker crying his heart out earlier.

 

“You’re…you’re welcome.” Akaashi whispered. “…Goodnight, then, Bokuto-san.”

“Yeah! Goodnight to you too, Akaashee. Thanks again!”

Keiji gave him one last gentle smile and walked back to his room in a trance, forgoing closing his door just in case Bokuto needed anything. He collapsed onto his bed, letting out another deep sigh as sleep overcame him within a matter of seconds; despite Akaashi’s exhaustion, he felt really good about the whole situation. He was glad he could offer Bokuto a warm place to stay for the night, and even more glad that he saved him from another night of having sex with random strangers in exchange for rent money. Maybe he could get up early and wash Kōtarō’s clothing for him…maybe even slip a few hundreds in the pockets…although, that might send him to jail if Bokuto were to be waving it around as they left the apartment…

 _He deserves better_ , Akaashi thought, his eyelids closing shut as a soft silence echoed through the apartment. _He deserves so much better than what he has. How did he end up where he is today? ...Poor Bokuto…he doesn’t seem like the type of prostitute who enjoys their line of work. But if so…how can he stand it? How can he stand doing such dirty, degrading things with strangers for money? It has to take a toll on his mental state…_

 

Officer Keiji sighed again, and figured they’d deal with it tomorrow. Right now, they both needed a good night’s rest.

~~~-~~~

Although Bokuto had never slept so well in his life, he kept being awoken by guilt-ridden thoughts concerning his savior, Akaashi.

 

At three in the morning, he finally forced himself to jump off the futon and go to the police officer’s bedroom to do something; what, he wasn’t quite sure, but hopefully it would be enough to convey his undying gratitude towards the pretty young man for letting him stay the night. He didn't know how much he had saved the prostitute; he didn't know how relieved Kotaro was to not have to swallow someone's semen just to have money for food tomorrow, to not have to get fucked by some fat pervert just to get money for his savings.

That was only part of why he had bawled his eyes out earlier.

Bokuto crept through the hallway, inching his way towards the open doorway leading to Keiji; peeking inside, he smiled when he saw Akaashi sleeping soundly, face mushed into a rock-hard pillow in the middle of the small bed.

Keiji faintly remembered something about flying owls and volleyball when he was stirred awake by someone whispering his name and touching his arm.

“Akaassheeee…are you awake?”

_Bokuto-san?_

“Akaashi…”

The rookie finally peeled his puffy eyes open, rubbing them to clear his vision so he could confirm that it was indeed Kōtarō who was waking him up to talk.

“Hm?” He mumbled, sitting up on an elbow. Bokuto was sitting on the side of his mattress, waiting patiently. “…Something wrong?”

“No, no, I just…I wanted to thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Bokuto-san…” _Especially not when it’s three in the morning_.

“Well…”

Keiji listened and watched as Bokuto struggled with his words, yellow eyes staring down at the cop with anxiety and seriousness; the sleeper’s mind began to clear a little more as he realized that Kōtarō was slowly leaning down, towards him, dropping his voice to a low, deeply serious tone.

 

“I wanted to thank you… _properly_.”

 

Akaashi was awake now.

 

Before he could go into a complete panic, thinking he was about to be sexually assaulted, the built-hooker leaned away, giving a simple explanation.

“I just…I wanna offer you something. Something I never offer my clients, or _anyone_ else, really.” Bokuto said, never taking his eyes off Keiji. “It’s nothing dirty or sick, I promise, Akaashi—I……I just want to show you how much this means to me. Will you let me?”

_W-What?! Let you do WHAT? What’s going on?_

_“…_ _Please_ , Akaashee?”

Like the rookie he was, Keiji made the mistake of looking up into Bokuto’s eyes; for one of the first times since meeting the prostitute, he saw a glimmer of hopefulness in Kōtarō’s big owl gaze. He looked determined, ready to fight for something, ready to show his savior just how warm-hearted he really was. Not that the cop had ever doubted his sincerity…but that look. That look was probably what did it.

 

Against his better judgement, Akaashi nodded.

 

Bokuto’s eyes brightened like the sun rising; he licked his lips briefly before placing his hands back on the mattress, his body moving forward. Keiji was holding his breath in fear, hoping he wasn’t making a huge mistake—the male prostitute was even closer now, his breath fanning over Akaashi’s face, those beaming eyes penetrating through the darkness—

A warm, slightly parched surface touched his left cheek. Bokuto’s lips. They were raw, burning, and cracked; that was how Keiji knew it was real. It never crossed his mind that those lips had probably sucked for a hundred dicks in Tokyo. It never crossed his mind that they had been bitten by strangers. It never crossed his mind that Kōtarō used them to whisper sultry verses in his customer’s ears. He just felt the warmth of the kiss, the gentleness behind it—

More importantly, he could feel the gratitude that Bokuto was sending through the kiss.

He understood everything, then; why the young man had declined his first offer to drive him home. Why he accepted the next offer, and let Akaashi make the decision. Why had been crying on the futon. Why he had probably pulled himself together while taking a shower for the first time in weeks. Why he had said Akaashi was such a great cook. Why he was surprised at the amount of comfort he was given. Why he kept thanking Keiji over and over again…Bokuto was a human being. He knew shame, he knew guilt, he knew misfortune…and he also knew about love. He was aware that it still existed, because there he had stood, on the corner of that sidewalk on the busiest street in Tokyo, freezing his ass off, and watched Akaashi roll down his window to talk to him, despite the weather conditions.

 

Within one interaction, he had successfully lit Bokuto’s candle.

 

And now, he was repaying the favor.

 

Both boys leaned back, breathless and shocked by what just happened; Bokuto was proud of himself for not thinking bad thoughts during the kiss. Keiji was proud that he hadn't fainted, only blushed madly. 

_How long had he known this guy again?_

“That's how grateful I am for you, Akaashi.” Bokuto smiled.

 

Even in his sleep-deprived, shocked, absolutely flattered state, Akaashi couldn’t help but smile back, warming the prostitute's heart up to a degree it hadn't hit in a long time.

 

“Likewise, Bokuto-san.”

~~~-~~~

“Have a good lunch break, Akaashi-kun.”

“Thanks, Konoha-san. See you in a bit.”

Keiji waved to the rest of his colleagues on his way out of the police station, eager to warm his car up before driving a few blocks down to pick-up Bokuto-san; they were having coffee together again, just like yesterday, but Akaashi couldn’t help but worry that when he arrived, the ex-prostitute wouldn’t be there.

It had been a few weeks since the officer first had Bokuto over to stay the night, and since they began seeing each other at the same stoplight each night, they considered it appropriate to strike-up a real friendship, and thus, set up a coffee date (Akaashi avoided the use of that word) every time Keiji took a lunch break. So far, they had learned a little more about each other, and despite Keiji’s protests, Bokuto and he would take turns paying for the food.

 

He hoped that meant Bokuto was doing a little better in terms of money, now days.

 

Akaashi turned the heater on full-blast, like he always did, and drove towards that damned red-light to pick-up his new friend; the streets were amazingly see through today, which allowed him to peek through larger gaps in traffic to see if Kōtarō was still standing where he always stood.

_There he is._

Rocking back and forth on his feet was Bokuto, waiting in the cold winter air for Keiji to come get him; he had boots on now, more equipped for the weather, a light coat Akaashi “borrowed” to him (in a total non-chalant way), jeans with holes on the knees, and that same pair of owl mittens he loved and cherished so much. His hair was spiked in the usual style, but seemed crisper at the edges, probably because they were frozen from the winter wind whipping around his body—despite all of these things, and the fact that he was rocking back and forth to try and keep warm, Bokuto gave a huge grin when he spotted Akaashi in the cop car.

He waved wildly, which Keiji returned politely as he turned his blinker on and drove up to the curb.

The prostitute hurried around the side of the car and hopped into the passenger seat, hurriedly shutting the door and greeting his friend as if it were summer, not the middle of winter.

“Hey hey, Akaashi! How’s work so far?”

“Busy. Have you stayed warm today?”

“Mostly, yeah—hey, can we go to this new coffee shop I found? It’s only a few blocks over!”

“Sure.”

 

Kōtarō gave the policeman directions as the other became lost in thought, side-glancing at the young man like he was so often caught doing; he now knew that Bokuto was waiting to hear back from a manager for a job as a cashier, but to be honest, _Keiji_ was more nervous than his friend was. He even convinced Bokuto to turn-in an application for a desk worker at the station, just so Akaashi wouldn’t have to worry about him all hours of the day.

He still thought Kōtarō was adorable, but decided that he could live with the cheek kiss for a long time.

“Something up, ‘Kaashi?”

“Hm? Oh, no…I was just daydreaming.”

“You shouldn’t do that when you’re driving—that’s another point off your license, Officer Keiji!”

Akaashi rolled his eyes as Bokuto laughed playfully; he didn’t look as tired as he had weeks earlier, although his illness had gotten drastically worse, causing his eyes to water at all times of the day, his nose to run just as equally…but Keiji wasn’t worried. The prostitute had been staying at his home frequently since that first night, and he was strongly convinced that the cold would be beaten within another few days or so; ever since the first time they laid eyes on each other, Akaashi could tell that Bokuto was growing. He was improving.

There was still so much he didn’t know about his friend’s situation. He didn’t know how he became homeless. He didn’t know if he had a family. He knew that he was loud, confident, sensitive, cheerful, and childish. Keiji knew that he frequently slept underneath garbage, or in cardboard boxes; the one definite thing he knew was that Bokuto…was going to survive.

 

All because Akaashi had lit his candle.

 

“You missed the turn, Akaashi!”

“Oh—sorry.”

“No problem,” Kōtarō sniffled, looking over at the cop. “Are you _sure_ you’re okay?”

Keiji smiled strangely at the hooker and gave a firm nod, turning the car around.

“Yeah,” He confirmed softly. “I’m okay.”

 

_Because Bokuto-san’s going to be just fine._

 

_Seasons of love…_

_Love…_

_Seasons of love_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, friends!


End file.
